


Last Chants

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-21
Updated: 1999-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: This story is a sequel toFor All Things Left Unsaid.





	Last Chants

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Alliance. I'm just having alittle
    wholesome fun with them. O.k  Well, maybe 'wholesome' isn't the right
    word....  Lyrics are from the song 'Wisdom' by Delerium and belong to
    Nettwerk Records. 
    
    I told myself I wasn't going to right a follow-up, but for lack of a
    better idea I figured I might as well wrap up the one I started. This
    is a direct sequel to For All Things Left Unsaid and you should probably
    read that one first, or this one will confuse the hell out of you. 
        I also want to apologize for the last story. RayK. is my favorite
    character and I can't really explain where the ending came from, but
    I didn't mean any disrespect. But it seems I struck a chord with the
    other RayK fans, so I hope this story will redeem me. 
    
    R for language, violence, rape, h/c, 
    
                                Last Chants
                                   By
                                   Rae
    
    When Ray Vecchio went back into the office, Fraser was sitting silently
    on the cot, staring at the wall. "Benny?", he said quietly. The Mountie
    didn't look at him.
    "Yes, Ray?" A weary whisper.
    "Thatcher wants you to take some personal time." He didn't see the sea
    blue eyes close, didn't see the barest tremble of the lips. "Are you
    sure it's him?", Fraser asked. Ray swallowed.
    "I saw the body, Benny."
    "That isn't what I asked, Ray." He sighed.
    "It was Stan, no question." The Mountie was on his feet suddenly. "Oh,
    dear. My behavior in front of Inspector Thatcter was most inappropriate.
    I must apologize." He moved past Ray, out of the office. "Benny! I explained
    the situation to her. She understands!", he called out after his friend.
    "Benny!" He started to go after Fraser, but was stopped by the angry
    ring of his cell phone. Growling, he paused and answered. 
    
    
    "What, Jack?"
    "How's Fraser?"
    "Not good. What have you got?"
    "We got a couple of witnesses-"
    "Terrific. What else have you got?"
    "We found a grocery bag with Ray's gun, badge, wallet and holster in
    the dumpster." "No clothes?"
    "No clothes." Vecchio sighed.
    "Why would they strip him, Jack?" There was pause on the other end. "Evidence,
    maybe. I don't know." 
    "Alright." Ray massaged his temple. "Thanks, Jack."
    "Ray?"
    "What?"
    "Welsh wants to see you and Fraser as soon as possible."
    "Right." He hung up and turned to see Ben standing by the Consulate door.
    He pocketed the cell phone and walked toward his friend. "What did Thatcher
    say?" Fraser just shook his head. Ray groaned. "O.k. Look, Welsh needs
    to see us. You up for that?" Ben looked at him, blue eyes strangely vacant
    and detached. "Of course, Ray."
    
    
    
    
       The activity in the 27th had slowed. It was almost deathly silent
    as the Mountie and the cop made their way through the building. Frannie
    intercepted them outside Welsh's office. Her eyes were swollen and a
    rumpled handkerchief was held in a white-knuckle grip. She looked at
    Ben, then at her brother. "Ray?" Vecchio took hold of his baby sister's
    shoulders and pulled her into a hug. That was all Frannie needed. She
    collasped against him, sobbing quietly. "We'll get them.",he whispered
    and kissed the top of her head. When the crying had subsided some, he
    gently released her. "Listen, I have to talk to the Lieutenant. But after
    that, I'm going to take you home." She nodded and walked away slowly.
    
    
    
      Lieutenant Harding Welsh was slumped behind his desk when Fraser and
    Ray, accompanied by Dewey and Huey, entered his office. The older man
    wore a stern expression, but it was obvious to the detectives that he
    had been crying. "How's that nausea, Tom?", he asked, not looking at
    Dewey. 
    "I'm fine, sir." The voice that answered was barely above a whisper.
    For a time, there was nothing said. Finally, Welsh looked up at the four
    younger men, now painfully aware of the absence of the fifth. "Did Stan
    mention anything to any one of you about a case he was working on? Something
    on the side, perhaps?" All shook their heads. Fraser swallowed. "These
    past few days, Ray felt that he was unwanted here. It is unlikely that
    he spoke with anyone about his investigations." Harding nodded. "Constable,
    you were working with him. Was there anything, recently, any threats,
    people he pissed off significantly enough for them to go after him?"
    Ben shook his head. "Thefts mostly, there was a firearms case, but the
    man was a first time offender and he, uh, well, he began praying for
    his soul when Ray arrested him. The bank robbery was the last case, but..."
    "But you and Vecchio were handling that."
    "Yes, sir."
    "And he didn't say a word about any private investigation, personal even?
    Was he having problems with anyone?" "No, sir." Harding sighed and nodded.
    "He kept notes. Find them. Find out what he was working on and who killed
    him and why. This is a top priority gentlemen. One of our own." The four
    nodded and started out the door. Welsh stood. "Fraser?" Ben turned.
    "Come back in here and close the door, Constable." The Mountie did as
    he was asked. Harding went around the desk and gazed gazed at the window,
    his back to Fraser. "I'm not good at this, Constable."
    "I'm sorry, sir?"
    "You are like sons to me, all of you. It's hard to loose a child, Constable."
    "Yes, sir, it is."
    "I had to make that phone call today. The same one I made when Louis
    was killed. Ray's mother....  She begged me to tell her.... " He took
    a shaky breath. "He was an only child, Ben. Gardino had two brothers.
    Ray was an only child. His parents are arriving tomorrow. They are coming
    to Chicago to bury their son and I..." He sighed in frustration, eyes
    focused on a far away point."He thought the world of you, Constable."
    "Sir?"
    "After the divorce, he was a mess. You did alot for him, for his self-esteem,
    his emotional and mental well-being. He thought the world of you." For
    the first time that day, the barest hint of a smile crossed the lieutenant's
    lips."Do you remember when Kelly held you and Quinn hostage in that warehouse?"
    Ben's heart ached, he did not want to think about these things now. "Yes,
    sir."
    "I told Ray we were going to bring in SWAT, hostage negotiators, everybody
    and he thought...it was a bad idea because then we wouldn't have control
    anymore. I told him it was standard procedure. And he said to me, he
    said, 'Yeah, but that's Fraser in there.'" Welsh chuckled weakly." He
    didn't want anything to happen to you."  Ben was finding it increasingly
    difficult to breathe. The feeling of falling came over him again, as
    it had in Ray's apartment.  As if pulled from a trance, Welsh suddenly
    turned around. "Alright. Y-you have work to do. We all have work to do."
    
    "Yes, sir.", Fraser said quickly as he opened the door.
    "What I meant to say was that I'm sorry for what happened, Constable.
    I know you were close." Fraser blinked. "I used to think so, sir." He
    was out of the office before Welsh had a chance to question him about
    that statement.   
    
    
      Ray took Frannie home to Ma and then he and Ben paid a visit to the
    coroner. 
    
    
      Mort stared at Fraser over his glasses. 
    "You and Detective Kowalski were friends. I am very sorry for your loss,
    Constable." Ben kept the elder's gaze, avoiding even a glance at the
    covered body on the table behind him. "Thank you, Mort." Ray sighed.
    "What can you tell us?"
    "First, I estimate the time of death to be somewhere around 11pm last
    night and 3 am this morning. He was handcuffed. There is chaffing on
    both wrists. He was beaten, very badly. Both shoulders were dislocated,
    broken arms, legs, fingers, ribcage-" "We get the idea." The examiner
    tossed the Italian an icy glare for cutting him off so abruptly. "He
    was also raped."
    "R-raped?", Ben stuttered. Vecchio turned away, feeling sick again. "Yes.
    There is extensive tearing in-" Mort looked at Fraser and stopped. The
    Mountie seemed ready to crumble. "This all could have taken hours. As
    far as I can tell, the cause death could have been one of many blows
    to the head or internal bleeding.", he finished quickly. "But, there
    is something else. You say he was dumped?" "That's what our source says."
    "This is what confuses me, Detective Vecchio. He was found on his back,
    yes?" "Yes."
    "But there is much sand pushed into the wounds on his chest, abdomen,
    and thighs, which only could have happened if he as lying on his stomach
    at some point. And sand under his fingernails as if he had been digging."
    "What does that mean?", Ray asked.
    "It means that Detective Kowalski was alive when he was dumped."
    
    
    
    
       Ben was having trouble breathing by the time he and Ray got back outside.
    Vecchio noticed that his friend's color was pale, if not alittle green.
    "You feelin' alright?",Ray asked. Ben did not reply.  In the car, his
    chest was heaving visibly. He twisted in the bonds of the seatbelt, as
    if trying to get more comfortable. Ray observed all this without saying
    a word. Finally, his partner pulled off the seatbelt and settled into
    the seat with a frustrated sigh. "Are you all right, Benny?" The Mountie
    leaned forward, resting his head on the dashboard "Ben?" His partner
    shook his head. And then slowly the large, muscular frame began to shake
    with silent sobs. Ray tried to swallow and found it increasingly difficult.
    "I can't do this, Ray. I can't.", Ben managed through a torrent of tears.
    Ray felt his own eyes stinging. "Come on, man." His lips trembled. He
    put his hand on Fraser's back and rubbed it reassuringly. "Pull youself
    together, Constable. I can't do this without you. Please." They were
    coming undone, all of them. 
    
    
    
       The next morning was one of the worst Ben had ever experienced. Not
    since the death of his father had he woken with such a sense of foreboding.
    The difference this time was that he felt strangely numb. Yesterday had
    been little more than a disappointing mess of dead ends and useless information.
    He sat on the cot for several mintues. Diefenbaker, hungry and not much
    better off than his master, nudged the hand that sat loosely across his
    knee. Fraser reached out and scratched the wolf behind the ear. Somehow,
    despite their bad start, Dief had gotten quite attached to Kowalski and
    no doubt the packmate's death was wearing on the animal. Now he whined
    and licked Ben's hand. "Alright, I know you're hungry.", he said and
    rose to feed the wolf. 
    
    
    
       The Mountie was  dressed and standing outside the Consulate when Ray
    Vecchio arrived to pick him up. "Good morning, Ray.", Ben said as he
    climbed into the car.
    "' Morning, Benny." He sighed. "How are you holding up?"
    "I'm fine.", he said curiously, as if the question had come without reason.
    
    
    
    "Ray, has forensics been over Kowalski's apartment?" Vecchio looked at
    his partner in surprise. This was the first time he was hearing  Ben
    ever refer to Stan by just his last name. Coming from Benny, it sounded
    cold and distant, as if Stan had been a stranger. "Ray, ", Ben said again.
    "has forensics been over the apartment?" The detective nodded. "Um, yeah,
    ur, yes. But they weren't able to find anything significant. We have
    to go through his files and things today." "Right.", Ben said with a
    bright smile. Ray sighed, shaking his head. This was definitely not like
    his partner. God, yesterday, today. One extreme to another. 
    
    
    
       Forensics had moved around a few things, but the apartment was pretty
    much as Stan had left it. An empty box of Smarties, half-finished coffee
    and two unopened Vibrolux CDs on the coffeetable. The bedroom was in
    a state if disarray.  Suitcases open, half-packed on the bed. Closet
    almost empty, drawers wide-open. Books and files piled in stacks around
    the room, leaving limited space for movement. Ray took a breath. "Alright.Let's
    dive in, huh?" Fraser nodded.
     
    
    
    
       Four hours later nothing had come up. It was becoming more and more
    frustrating for both cops. After going through one more file, Ray knocked
    over a stack and groaned. Ben didn't so much as look up from his section.
    "Half these things are outdated!", he snapped. 
    "Yes, it would appear so.", The Mountie replied calmly. Vecchio stood
    and cracked his neck. "O.k. Maybe we should take a break, get something
    to eat." His cell phone rang and the detective pulled it out of his coat
    impatiently. "Vecchio.", he sighed. Ben watched as his partner massaged
    his temple. "Right. O.k.", Ray muttered and hung up. 
    "Um, Benny, that was Welsh. Stan's parents are on their way over. He
    says it would be better if we weren't here." Fraser nodded in agreement.
    "Understood."
    "So, let's wrap up and go." 
    
    
    
      They were on the sidewalk when Ray suddenly growled.
    "I forgot my cell phone.", he whined. He glanced at his watch. "I'll
    be right back." He disappeared back inside the building before Ben could
    reply.  
    
    
       Back upstairs, he had a time trying to relocate his phone. 
    "Why do you this to yourself, Vecchio?", he muttered, looking under and
    around the desk in the bedroom. As he took a step forward to check under
    a stack of papers, his foot struck something that sounded suspiciously
    like the phone and sent it under the desk. Rolling his eyes and grinding
    his teeth, Ray went  down on hands and knees to get the phone. It had
    gone to the back and he had to struggle to reach it, but he finally did.
    Not thinking, he tried to stand up and banged his head on top of the
    desk. "Damnit!" Vecchio cried out in pain and fell on his back, rubbing
    his head. He sighed deeply and lay still for a few moments. Looking up,
    he caught sight of a panel  that was partially pulled away. Ray reached
    up and slipped his hand into the corner opening, feeling something like...papers?
    A book, maybe? Angry yelling from outside distracted him then and he
    pulled himself quickly from under the desk. Going to the window, his
    head began to throb at the sight of Ray Kowalski's father screaming at
    Ben. The Mountie was still and silent, head bowed. "Damn.", Vecchio muttered
    and headed back out.
    
    
    
    "-were his partner! Why didn't you protect him!" Damien Kowalski's face
    was beet red as he hollared at the younger man. His wife-Stan's mother-stood
    behind him, sobbing quietly. "Mr. Kowalski?"  Vecchio quickly moved between
    the older man and the Constable. Damien hardly took a breath. "Who the
    hell are you?", he snapped.
    "My name is Detective Vecchio. I am-I was Constable Fraser's partner
    before your son. It was my cover he was protecting." "I see,", Damien
    muttered, "And where were all of you when my son needed protecting?"
    Ray did not reply. 
    
    
      The drive back to the Consulate was consumed in silence. Ray had forgotten
    about the papers in the desk. His head ached terribly. Nothing. The case
    was falling apart. Everything was falling apart.  Why did it seem like
    the days were going by in slow motion? Taking so long? Or was it too
    fast? Vecchio hardly noticed when The Mountie got out of the car. 
    
    
    For reasons Ben was not entirely sure of, his customary evening walk
    with Dief ended at a nearby liquor store only two blocks from the Consulate.
    He bought two bottles of wine and returned to his small office, ignoring
    the wolf's judgemental snarls.  The Mountie took off his jacket, rolled
    up his sleeves, sat down on the cot and for the first time, found comfort
    in drink. Sleep came easily by the time he had gotten 1/4th of the way
    through the second bottle. 
    
    
    
       Fraser stood in the doorway of Kowalski's apartment. It was dark,
    almost pitch black. He walked in slowly and grappled blindly for a light
    switch. He bumped into the couch, table, something else he could not
    identify. There was a sound from somewhere. Something. Ben shivered,
    a feeling of terror momentaryily washing over him. "Dief?" No answer.
    He moved slowly toward the source of the sound. There was a light on
    in the bathroom, the only light visible. Ben was shivering almost uncontrollably
    as he approached. The door was ajar and he could see movement, the shadow
    of someone moving around. Fraser began to open his mouth, to speak and
    then the door opened. Stanley Ray Kowalski stood in the doorway, illuminated
    by the light behind him. A long bathtowel was wrapped around his narrow
    waist, hair matted against his head, droplets of water glistening on
    his arms, chest and shoulders, almost magnifying the cuts and bruises
    that marred the delicate flesh. Ben gasped and Kowalski froze for a second.
    Then he sighed and turned on another light, flooding the bedroom with
    a sickly light. His police uniform was laid out with great care on the
    bed. "What do you want, Fraser?" 
    "Ray..." His friend didn't turn around.
    "I thought I asked you to leave." He tried to speak, to find the words.
    "Ray..." The detective whirled.
    "Get out!", he roared, eyes alight. Ben stepped back, his jaw tightening.
    "I will not, Ray. I will not make the same mistake twice." Kowalski laughed
    humorlessly. "Which mistake was that, Fraser? Talking about me behind
    my back? Hitting me? Or walking out?" Tears rose, blurring his vision.
    "All of it, everything." The detective nodded.
    "Yeah. Well, it's too goddamn late now." The tears began to fall and
    Ben had to fight to keep himself coherent. "No. I refuse to believe that-"
    "Why?", Ray snapped cruelly."Because of your guilt?" Fraser could barely
    speak anymore. "Please...", he managed in a weak whisper. "forgive me,
    Ray."
    "No! You walked away from me when I needed you the most! Friend! Partner!
    Brother! Is that why you came here?! Huh?! To feed me that same line
    of bullshit! Where were you when those sons-of-bitches grabbed me from
    the street?! While they hand-cuffed me, while they kicked me around,
    while they held me down and raped me! And you have the nerve to come
    here and cry to me! You don't know what tears are! I begged them to stop
    and they laughed! They just laughed!" He sighed, breathing heavily. 
    When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Where were you then, Frase?
    I prayed and I prayed. No one came. So if it's forgiveness you're looking
    for, you aren't gonna find it here. And do me a favor. This time when
    you walk out, don't come back." 
    
    
      Inspector Meg Thatcher was going through a old paperwork. There a jarring
    crash from Constable Fraser's office, so sudden that she actually screamed
    in fright. When she went to investigate she wasn't prepared for the sight
    that met her. Ben was huddled in a far corner of the office, amongst
    a scatter of fallen boxes, weeping like a small child. Two wine bottles,
    one empty sat beside his cot. Alarmed, she squatted down beside him,
    gently pulling his hands away from his tear-stained face. "Talk to me,
    Constable." Benton's face flushed red with humiliation. He shook his
    head and cleared his throat. "I was thinking of his last hours. What
    they must have been like. What he was thinking. What he was going through.
    All that, alone. The only faith he had was in his friends and in the
    end....we weren't--I wasn't there to protect him." She sighed and used
    a soft tissue to wipe his face. "Don't do this to yourself, Fraser, it
    will drive you insane."
    "I can't... He was, I don't know. He was so vulnerable." He looked at
    her."We had an argument before he died, we fought. Detective Kowalski
    and I have had our differences before, but this time was terrible." 
    Thatcher sat down next to him. Superior officer or not, she could not
    leave him in this state. "Why?" Ben sighed.
    "He...was upset, uh, confused after Ray Vecchio came back. He wasn't
    sure of his standing anymore. In the department, in our friendship, in
    his own life. He hadn't been sleeping or eating well. I reassured him
    of our friendship, but then he walked in, uh, eavesdropped on a conversation
    between Detective Vecchio and myself and...."His voice trailed off. Thatcher
    rubbed his shoulder. "And he heard something he should not have." 
    "Yes, sir." He closed his eyes. "He asked for a transfer and never mentioned
    it to me. I found out from Lieutenant Welsh. I went to his apartment
    to confront him and-" "And it escalated and you struck him." He looked
    at her in surprise. "Yes, sir."
    "Detective Vecchio told me." He nodded sheepishly. "It's hard to choose
    between your friends, Constable." "I didn't want to choose between them."
    Ben shook his head miserably. Without thinking, Thatcher leaned forward
    and kissed him lightly on the forehead. She stood, pulling him up with
    her and gathered him into a soft hug. Fraser, despite himself slumped
    into her embrace. "Detective Kowalski was a excellent officer, Benton
    and I know he thought very highly of you. He loved you and one argument
    won't change that.", she whispered, smoothing his hair. Ben closed his
    eyes, feeling the last of the tears run down his cheeks.  She gently
    pulled away and reached up to caress his face. "I know I don't say it
    enough, Fraser, but you're a good man and the RCMP is fortunate to have
    you." Ben smiled. "Thank you, Sir." She nodded and started to leave the
    office.
    "I still have paperwork to finish." Ben nodded.
    "Yes, Sir. Sir?"
      In the doorway, she stopped and turned.
    "Thank you, sir. For everything." She flashed him a brief but gentle
    smile. "What are friends for?"
    
    
    
      It was Huey who picked up Ben from the Consulate that morning.
    "We've got a lead.", he said excitedly as the Mountie got into the car.
    A small feeling of relief washed over Fraser. One step closer. Closer
    than they were yesterday. "A lead?" He nodded. 
    "Dewey and I busted this guy, Andres, for narotics possession and assault
    yesterday. He's got some priors, so there's no way in hell he's getting
    off with a slap on the wrist this time. One night in jail and he wants
    to cut a deal. Says he's got information on the dead cop. Welsh wanted
    you to be there for the interrogation." Fraser nodded. "Understood. And
    will Ray be meeting us at the precinct?"
    "Uh, no. Actually, he called to say he was checking into something at
    Stan's apartment. He said he'd join us later." "Fine."
    
    
    
    It was agreed that Tom and Jack would handle the interrogation while
    Welsh and Fraser watchedfrom behind the two-way mirror. The original
    plan was to use the old good cop/bad cop play, but once inside the interrogation
    that proved difficult since Dewey, who could not stand still for more
    than a second, would not let Huey get a word in edgewise. 
    
    
    The past few days found Dewey extremely jumpy and agitated. He'd become
    a chain-smoker, which was...well, it didn't make an ounce of sense since
    Tom had never smoked. Huey and Welsh had both tried to confront him about
    it, but they could never get Dewey in a corner long enough. And right
    now, with everything that was going on, neither of them had the extra
    energy to push any harder. When this case was wrapped up, then they would
    have to sit the detective down and have a talk. 
    
    
      Welsh sighed as he watched the Dewey circle Andres like a jackal and
    rant on about how much the criminal was going to enjoy prison. "That
    man is going to crack.", he whispered.
    "Andres, sir?" , Fraser asked. The lieutenant shook his head.
    "No, Constable. Tom." Ben nodded his agreement.
    
    
    
    "So that's what this guy, Campbell told you? They just decided to torture
    a cop. No reason?" "Ty probably had some reasons.", Andres replied, "He
    just didn't tell me what they were." Dewey growled. "The plan was to
    kill him then?"
    "Yeah." Tom leaned against the wall, glaring at Andres.
    "Why didn't they just shoot him? Huh?" Huey could see his partner's face
    growing an unusual shade of red. "Why was he beaten and raped?" Andres
    didn't answer. "If  the plan was to kill him, why was Detective Kowalski
    raped?!", he demanded more forcefully. The other man shrugged. "'Cause,
    it was more painful that way." Dewey was over the table and on top of
    Andres in the blink of an eye. Huey lept at his partner, attempting to
    pull him off the suspect. "Tom, stop!" Dewey repeatedly  pounded the
    other man's head hard against the floor. His anger gave him almost super-human
    strength and Huey could barely maintain a hold on him. Everything was
    a mess, a blur. Jack was thrown back as Welsh, Fraser and another officer
    set on Dewey and pulled the raging detective from the room. "How's that
    for pain, you son-of-a-bitch?!", Huey heard Tom yell as he was dragged
    out. 
    
    
    When Jack joined the others in Welsh's office, Tom was fuming, pacing
    like a caged lion. His hands, balled into white-knuckled fists were clenched
    at his side. "Pain. More, painful. Painful,", he muttered as he went
    back and forth across the room. Welsh glanced at Huey. "That was stupid,
    Tom.", Jack said quietly. His partner whipped around, fire dancing in
    his eyes. "No! Stupid is these fucking laws that give murderers and rapists
    rights and protection and let innocent people die. I mean, what rights
    did Kowalski have?" He stalked toward Huey, his face very close to other
    detective's. "You tell me, Jack, what do you think  was going through
    Ray's head while they raped and beat him? What do you think his last
    thoughts were?" Dewey's voice had taken on a taunting sneer and now he
    turned his attention to the lieutenant. "What about you, Welsh, any ideas?
    Do you think he was thinking about their rights while they broke his
    ribcage? What about while they dislocated his shoulders?" The lieutenant
    couldn't meet his gaze. "You're outta line, Detective.", he said softly,
    " And as of now, you're off the case." The younger man's eyes grew impossibly
    huge. "What?!"
    "After the stunt you pulled in there, you think I'm gonna let you back
    on? That bastard will probably get off now thanks to you. Be thankful
    I don't suspend you." Tom grinded his teeth. After a second, he took
    a deep breath and removed both gun and badge. He moved past Fraser and
    placed them on the desk. "I'll do you one better, Lieu, I quit." Huey
    and Fraser groaned in unison. Welsh blocked Dewey's exit as he went for
    the door. "Don't do this, Tom. You aren't a martyr, so whatever it is
    you're trying to prove..." The rage was gone from Dewey. All that remained
    now was the certain weariness of a beaten man. "I'm not trying to prove
    anything. And that's what's really funny. I, uh, just can't take it anymore."
    He shook his head sadly. "I don't believe in this anymore. Ray was convinced
    he was making this godforsaken stinkhole a better place and look what
    happened to him. So what chance is there for the rest of us?" He turned
    slowly, but did not meet the eyes of the other two men. "Bye, Jack. Good
    having you for a partner, man." Huey wanted to tell him to just swallow
    his pride, to stop always trying to make a point, that this was not a
    damn soap opera. But there was something in his partner's voice. Sometimes
    you just have to know when to walk away. "Yeah, same here." What else
    could be said?
    "See ya, Fraser."
    "Good-bye, Tom."
    "Best of to luck to you guys. I'll see you at the funeral." And then
    he was gone. 
    
     
    Welsh closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find focus. It was a long
    time before he spoke. "O.k. This guy Campbell, I want him picked up.
    Huey, contact Vecchio, take him with you. Fraser I need to have a word
    with you." "Yes, sir.", the two men muttered in unison.
    
    
    
    Jack opened the door of the office and was literally knocked over by
    a much-hyped Ray Vecchio. "Aw, jeez, sorry, Jack.", Ray said quickly,
    grabbing the other man quickly before he could actually fall. "Vecchio!
    Where the hell have you been?!", Welsh demanded. A huge smile lit the
    detective's face. He held up a blue book with black stripes. "Journal.
    I got it, sir. It's all here. Everything. Names, motive, threats, everything."
    Huey, Welsh and Fraser stared at him. "What?!" It was Jack who spoke.
    "Kowalski-Stan kept a journal in a little compartment under his desk.
    How original is that? The one place that we didn't check that day, Benny.
    Everything is in here. He'd been running this investigation for two weeks."
    Welsh shook his head. "Two weeks and he didn't tell us a goddamn thing."
    "He names specific people. Heavy duty drug-runners. Imports. These guys
    are the big guns. I don't know what the hell he was thinking." Fraser
    crossed his arms over his chest. "Ray, is Ty Campbell one of the men
    mentioned?" Vecchio nodded.
    "Yeah. Along with a dozen others and there's gathered evidence, phone
    numbers, dates, meeting places, items, log sheets, everything. Stan pretty
    much dropped two cases right into our laps." Ben lowered his head, feeling
    the tears fall over his cheeks. Welsh covered his face and took a deep,
    shaky breath. "Pick them up.", he said. "Pick them all up."
    
    
    
    After Huey and Ray left, Ben and Harding sat down with two mugs of coffee.
    "We're burying Stan tomorrow, Constable.", he said.
    "Yes, sir."
    "You, Detective Vecchio, Detective Huey, and I will carry the coffin."
    "Yes, sir." Welsh nodded, covering his eyes with his hand.
    "Alright." When he removed his hand, Ben could see the moisture glistening
    beneath his eyes. "We were lucky with this case, Constable. Lucky that
    Stan was such a damn good cop." "Yes, sir." He met the younger man's
    eyes.
    "We have our closure now. It's time to let go, Constable." Ben shook
    his head. "I can't do that yet, sir."
    
    
    
     Vecchio stopped his car outside the Consulate and turned off the engine.
    For a long while they sat in silence. "We got 'em, Benny. The bastards.
    Confessions and all." Ben nodded. "Yes, we did." Fraser looked at his
    friend and forced a smile.
    "I feel relieved, you know? Really, just relieved." 
    "Me too, Ray."
    "You don't look relieved. You don't sound relieved." Fraser sighed and
    ran his hand through his hair. "I still feel empty, Ray.", he replied
    finally.
    "I know, Benny."
    "When we went after these killers, I had some expectation, as ludicrious
    as it sounds, I almost expected that in some small way, this would bring
    Ray back." He sighed. "All this effort and he is still dead. There is
    nothing we can do about that." Vecchio put his hand on his partner's
    shoulder. "You have to let it go, man." Fraser mumbled something indistinct
    and got out of the car. "Thank you, Ray.", he whispered and closed the
    door before the detective could reply. 
    
    
    Later that night Diefenbaker glared angrily from his corner as his master
    downed another bottle of wine. This was getting to be an annoying habit.
    Fraser found the next day's headache worth the numbing effects the alcohol
    had. Anything to stop thinking, anything. By the time he had forced himself
    to finish the second bottle, Ben felt dizzy and nauseous. He wandered
    into the bathroom and collaspsed beside the sink. Face pressed against
    the cold tile, not really sure which way was up anymore, he closed his
    eyes and slept. 
    
    
      Oh, God. Ray's apartment again. But it was different now. The light
    in the bedroom was still on and a soft tune played from the CD player.
    A beautiful song, a woman's voice. Ben once again followed the source
    of the light into the bedroom. Ray was still in the bathtowel. He lay
    on the bed, curled up beside his uniform. He made brief eye contact with
    Fraser, then quickly dropped it. The music filled the void of silence.
    *To others the pain was obvious, The colors of shame a bruise-unjust,
    Abuse of trust can't be wiped...* "Hey there, Frase. Drunk again, buddy?"
    His fingers reached out to stroke the collar of the uniform. "Always
    hated wearing this thing, you know? And now I have to spend eternity
    in it." He looked up thoughtfully. "Isn't there a word for that?" "Irony.",
    The Mountie interjected gently.  *...I can't remember why I chose to
    say good-bye..* "Irony, right." Ray smiled softly. Boldly, Ben leaned
    over the bed and touched the face of this ghost. Flesh, warm and pulsing
    under his fingertips. *...I tried to forget the drowning truth, Lashing
    inside my sea of youth...*  He gasped softly and flattened his palm against
    the pale cheek, feeling stubble tickle his hand. Kowalski smiled and
    closed his eyes, purring contently as Ben cupped his face. *...Life seemed
    a fair sacrifice for peace...*  The Mountie felt tears well in his eyes
    again. "I love you, Frase.", Ray said softly, "I mean, not like the way
    I love Stella or anything like that. But like a brother, I love you.
    You know that, right?" Ben nodded. *...I ended up too high, But never
    learned to fly, So coming down I'm very thankful you were there...* "I
    love you too, Ray. But I deserve your anger."
    "No, you don't. I blamed you when I should have blamed myself. Everything
    that happened, the fight, my murder, it was my own fault." "Don't say
    that."
    "C'mon. I screwed up. I went after those guys alone and I got in over
    my head. But I could-I couldn't go to you. I mean, I didn't want to."
    Ben looked at him in confusion. "Why, Ray?"
    "'Cause I was sick of being a screw-up! I was sick of you always having
    to pull my ass out of the fire. I just thought..." He sighed. "I thought
    if I could pull this off..." He shook his head. "Hell, I don't know what
    I thought." "Ray, Ray, Ray.", he whispered."I owe my life to you. I'm
    your partner. It was my job to protect you and I failed miserably." "Nah,
    you didn't. You saved me a million times over. Gave me back my life,
    remember?" He sighed deeply and sat up. "By the way, lay off the booze."
    Fraser smiled. "As you wish." Ray went around the bed and stood close,
    facing his friend. "I want us to be able to say good-bye with clear consciences."
    "Yes. To be as we were before." Ray smiled.
    "Friend."
    "Partner."
    "Brother."
    "Brother." Ray opened his arms and Fraser embraced him. They held each
    other like this for a long time, knowing it was the last. With great
    reluctance Ben finally pulled away, suddenly aware that Kowalski was
    shivering. "Ray, are you alright?" Ray rubbed his hands together, as
    if trying to warm them. "I'm good. Just scared, you know?" He smiled
    sheepishly." Never been dead before." Fraser frowned.	"You're not alone
    here." 
    "See, that does not help. I've always been terrified of ghosts." He chuckled
    and Ben shook his head, smiling. "Always the joker.", he muttered. Kowalski
    grinned.
    "That's me." For a time they stood together, sharing in the comfortable
    silence, allowing the music to wrap them. Then from far away Ben heard
    Dief bark a warning to the coming morning. "Time to go.", Ray mumbled.
    Fraser nodded.
    "So it would seem." He offered a final parting glance. "Good-bye, Ray."
    "Good-bye, Fraser." He smiled broadly, raising an eyebrow. "Home again,
    home again, jiggety jig." 
    
    
    Benton Fraser remained at the cemetary for several hours after his friend
    was buried. For a long time he stared at the tombstone, again and again
    reading the name inscribed.  Stanley Raymond Kowalski.  Ray. Friend.
    Partner. Brother. Diefenbaker, who'd remained strangely silent and still
    at his companion's side, suddenly nudged his hand. Fraser looked down
    and the wolf let out low whine. 'Remember.' 
    
    "We're like a duet, a one, two punch, you set them up, I knock them down,
    you set them up, I knock them down." 
    
    The End
    
    Sappy and melodramatic, I know.
    
    


End file.
